


Growing Up Joshua - Four Chapters (Full)

by ImperfectOrphanage



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8848936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectOrphanage/pseuds/ImperfectOrphanage
Summary: Being able to see the Game was the least of Joshua's worries in this short headcanon ficlet exploring Joshua's past and his pre-Game relationships.





	

Chapter One – Five Years and two days

 

Being rocked in the arms of his mother was one of the best feelings in the world to Joshua. He was five years old and still such a slight boy that his weight didn’t seem to bother her at all. Joshua’s mother was somewhat frail and thin, but she had the energy of a child. She loved and doted on Joshua every chance she could, since his birth had been such a complication.

“Mama,” Joshua said, looking up into her sea-green eyes, “tell me about me again.”

She smiled and continued to rock him with his head against her heart. “I will never understand why you love hearing such a sad story.”

“It’s not sad.” His little cheeks puffed out as he pouted his lips. He began to play with the buttons on his mother’s blouse. “I like to hear it in your voice.”

“Well, it all started when you were growing inside of my tummy. The doctors were afraid for you because you weren’t growing as you should have. You were such a tiny thing.” His mother sighed. “Even when you were born they said you might not make it.”

Joshua curled tighter in his mother’s arms. He could feel an odd presence outside of the window and he was frightened of the weird shapes. “Then what, Mama?”

“The afternoon you were born was terrifying. I was in a lot of pain and the doctors were worried I had lost a lot of blood. But you came out as quiet as a whisper. I remember them whisking you away and your father and I were very scared. The moment you finally cried was such a relief.”

“Mama, did I die?” He looked up at her with wide eyes.

She nodded once. “Yes, Joshua. You weren’t breathing for what seemed to be forever. The doctors were very afraid you might have been hurt.”

Joshua laughed. “I’m not hurt, though, am I, Mama?”

“No, you’re perfect. My little Joshua is such a smart boy.”

He hugged her around the neck and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mama. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said soothingly. Her fingers brushed through his hair. “But I think an angel was watching over you.”

Joshua shifted in her lap to straddle one of her knees. He leaned back against her while they continued to rock. “Mama, why is my hair not like the other children?”

“Because you’re special, Joshua.”

“But my hair isn’t like your hair or Dada’s hair.” He reached up to tug on one of his mother’s wavy locks of brown. His father had deep, dark hair and a streak of grey. “Do you think the angel that watched over me made my hair so white?”

His mother kissed the top of his head. “It’s not white, Joshua. It’s blonde.”

“But Hiroshi has blonde hair and it’s darker.”

“Blonde hair comes in a variety of shades.”

“But, Mama, why are my eyes so weird?”

She pulled him up from her lap to set him on his socked feet. “Joshua, you aren’t weird. You are the most special boy in the world. I love your hair and your eyes, and I love you more than anything.”

“More than Dada?”

His mother smiled. “Don’t tell your father I said it.”

Joshua laughed brightly. “I won’t, Mama. I love you, too! I’m gonna go play with my toys. Are we having sandwiches for lunch again?”

“Yes. Do you want me to cut the crust off for you?”

He nodded and started off for his room. “Thanks, Mama!”

The sound of his mother’s laughter was music to Joshua. He plopped down onto the floor in the middle of several toys. There was a train-which he really loved, because his father got it from Britain-and there was a series of plastic interlocking blocks in the shape of a tower. Joshua had put a sign on the tower in a messy scrawl of 104. The train drove around the building and through what he pretended was the Scramble Crossing to run over several action figures.

“We got Players,” he said, running over them again for good measure. Afterward he set them up on top of a cardboard box with the word UG written in crayon. Joshua giggled and parked the train behind the mock 104.

Across the room were a handful of metal soldiers and Joshua scooted across the floor to grab them from the top of his nightstand. He liked the one with the pistol the most, and he used it to shoot people laying down in the Scramble Crossing. “Pew, pew! Gotcha!”

His father had told him it wasn’t nice to kill people, but if it was so bad, then why did Joshua see it happening everyday from the safety of his apartment balcony? People were running to and fro in panic while black winged demons tried to kill them. No one else seemed to notice what was going on, and when he asked his mother about it, she laughed and said he had a vivid imagination.

Joshua lay down on his stomach over the rough carpeted floor. He rolled over to his dresser and dug around for a stack of paper and a box of crayons. Hiroshi and Lila were extremely jealous of his sixty-four pack of crayons. It was his second pack, however, because he wanted everyone to be happy and had ended up handing out colors to everyone in class.

He smiled at the memory and drew a red crayon from the box. The paper was soon covered in streaks of red and black, the shapes a poor copy of the floating symbols Joshua had seen around Shibuya. But Joshua was certain if he kept practicing, he might even be as good as those people who did the murals around Udagawa.

A soft song began playing in his head and he hummed the notes as he began drawing the winged people dashing around town. There was one guy with orange hair, another with purple and black, and a couple weird ones with big eyes and silly hats. Joshua had found one of his mother’s fashion magazines and the people weren’t wearing any of the current trends.

“Joshua, it’s time for lunch!”

“Okay, Mama!” He hopped up from the floor and dropped the crayons onto the paper where they rolled to the side.

Much later in the day he would bury the pictures in the bottom drawer of his dresser, since his mother and his father didn’t like to see Joshua’s creativity on paper.

 

Chapter Two – Seven and a half

 

Third-grade math was incredibly hard for Joshua to understand. He didn’t like numbers and he often found it hard to study even with his mother’s help. His father-who was rarely home due to work as a physician-bought Joshua several books on math to help him understand.

It still made little sense to him. The basics were boring and the more advanced maths were far easier to wrap his brain around.

He excelled in English and history both local and abroad. Joshua loved to read and often went to the library with his mother to check out stacks upon stacks of books about the past. His friends told him it was weird that a seven year old would rather read than play games, but Joshua was happiest when learning.

Though on Sundays, after mass, he was often with Hiroshi. They played basketball and went to the arcade to try and win toys from the crane machines. Joshua wasn’t very good at the games, but Hiroshi had learned how to work them. He taught Joshua about how the machines worked, since Hiroshi’s father worked on mechanical things. Joshua wasn’t sure exactly what he did for a living, but it seemed fun.

There was a shelf in Joshua’s room where he proudly displayed the toys Hiroshi had won for him. Joshua had a blue penguin, a grey whale, a white unicorn with a rainbow mane, several small gashapon still in their eggs, and a box of knick-knacks. It confused him how much Hiroshi seemed to like having Joshua around but Hiroshi was one of Joshua’s only friends and it made Joshua happy to be with Hiroshi.

He didn’t learn until much later, on a walk home from school, what it meant.

Hiroshi had told him he saw his older sister and boyfriend making out in her bedroom and she explained to him that when two people loved each other, they kissed.

When Hiroshi kissed Joshua, it felt weird. Their mouths pressed together and a warm flush spread throughout Joshua’s tiny frame. He felt sick, but it was good sort of sick. His stomach was fluttering and his heart skipped a beat.

They walked home hand in hand and Joshua dreamed about kissing.

 

Chapter Three – Twelve and three quarters

 

Joshua had skipped a grade due to his excellent scores in all of his classes. He left Hiroshi behind and slowly they drifted apart as school became more of a burden. The toys Joshua had received as gifts were packed into a box and they sat in his closet as a fond reminder of the boy he used to love.

In eighth grade, there wasn’t as much time for friends and fun, and Joshua spent most of his time at home in his room studying. There was so much knowledge out there to absorb.

His room was filled with books upon books ranging from fiction to non-fiction, English to Japanese, and even a few German. His father often traveled overseas to help train doctors in the field of oncology, and when he came home for a week or more, he would take Joshua shopping. It was the only time Joshua got to spend with his father, but he cherished it as much as possible.

When he wasn’t studying or spending time with his father, he took care of his mother. She had begun to get weaker, and though the doctors had her on a handful of medication, there were days she couldn’t leave the apartment. Joshua would do the shopping and a little cooking to help her out. There were ladies in the building who loved to take care of Joshua as if he were their own, and they would bring dinner and help him do the laundry.

It was, to Joshua, much like having an extended family. He tutored the younger children and studied with the older. They were brothers and sisters to him.

But inside Joshua was breaking. A heavy depression had set in and when he didn’t have something to occupy his time, he often thought about the Game.

As a child he had heard certain terms being thrown around by the Players and Reapers alike. But if it hadn’t been for the nosy barista, Joshua was sure he would have checked out of the RG long ago. He met the man in the middle of Cat Street, while the barista was bringing a sack of groceries back to the café. Joshua had been standing outside, watching the hustle and bustle of the Players and the Reapers while casually smoking a cigarette one of his older friends gave him.

The man set the groceries down to snatch the cigarette away and stamp on it.

“Hey, kiddo, y’shouldn’t be doin’ that.”

“Fuck you,” Joshua said perfectly. English was his primary language after all.

Narrowing his eyes, the barista began unlocking the door of his café. It should have been the end of the conversation, but a stray Noise noticed Joshua.

He flinched. The movement was so simple but the barista noticed.

“You okay?” He asked, leaning on the frame of the door.

Joshua ignored him. He watched a Player run from the Noise before becoming nothing but static. Pulling out a notebook, Joshua scribbled down a few numbers.

The barista went pale and grabbed Joshua’s by the arm of his sweater. He yanked Joshua into the café and slammed the door, forgetting about his groceries.

“What the hell, kid?”

Joshua frowned up at the man. “I could have you arrested.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he snorted. “Y’see it, don’t ya?”

“See what?” Joshua took a seat at the bar for some reason. It was a compulsion he couldn’t explain.

The barista lit up a cigarette and stuffed it between his lips. “The Game.”

“Trust me,” Joshua leaned his chin into his hand and placed his elbow on the bar, “what I see isn’t at all a game, and it isn’t any of your business, either.”

“Heh, I like you,” the man said. He leaned against the bar and grinned. “The name’s Sanae Hanekoma. You can call me Mr. H.”

“Do I have to call you at all?” Joshua noticed a laminated menu on the counter. He scanned the broken bits of English and Japanese. “What would you recommend?”

Hanekoma took a drag off the cigarette before tapping the ashes into a glass bowl. “I don’t think ya should drink coffee. It’d stunt yer growth.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Joshua flipped the menu over to the dessert section, “I’m already quite short.”

“Well, ya don’t want to encourage it,” he said, and dug around in a small, glass windowed refrigerator filled with sweets. Hanekoma selected a couple items and set them in front of Joshua. “Y’know, it’s customary to introduce y’self when a name is given.”

“Yoshiya Kiryu,” he said half-heartedly. “But my mother and father call me Joshua.”

“Cute.”

“Again, fuck you.”

The barista was unfazed by Joshua’s terrible mood.

Joshua glanced at the sweets displayed before him. There was a slice of lemon pie and a tall muffin filled with berries. He took the muffin and tore a piece off to put in his mouth. The taste was sweet but bitter, and before he knew it, the muffin was gone. It filled Joshua with not just fluffy food, but with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Thank you, how much do I owe?”

“Consider this one free, kiddo.” Hanekoma took the empty plate away and began wiping the crumbs from the bar. “So, tell me, how long y’been seein’ it?”

Joshua eyed the lemon pie. “Since I was a child. I cannot remember a day when I couldn’t.”

“It must be hard,” the man offered.

“I wouldn’t call it hard. I would call it enlightening. However,” he drew his finger through the crème of the pie slice and sucked it off, “it makes one wonder why a person should exist at all, if what awaits them is static.”

“Erasure.”

Joshua tilted his head. “Is that what they call it?”

“Yeah.” He slid the pie closer and placed a fork next to it. “D’ya wanna learn more about it?”

The lemon pie was far too sweet and it burned Joshua’s tongue. He stabbed the fork into the crust and smiled languidly. “I think, Mr. H, we’re going to be close friends one day.”

Hanekoma laughed roughly. “Yeah, okay. Whatever ya say, kiddo.”

 

Chapter Four – Fifteen forever

 

Joshua’s mother had been sick for sometime and it had gotten to the point where he could no longer offer her the care she needed. His father checked her into a hospice and Joshua visited almost everyday after school to check on her status. The cancer had spread from her intestines to her liver, and a small tumor had begun to grow in her pancreas. Joshua knew she wouldn’t make it for more than a few months.

On the days he couldn’t bring himself to visit his gaunt mother, he visited Hanekoma. Just as Joshua had said, they became fast friends, and Hanekoma had become somewhat of a mentor to him. It was nice to have an adult to talk to, and even nicer to have someone who understood what Joshua could see.

But the more Joshua learned about the Game, the more Joshua wanted to be a part of it.

Hanekoma had told him about the Composer and Conductor, and that Hanekoma was a Producer of the products needed in the Game. There were pins and fancy symbols on buildings to let Players in to shop. Joshua thought it silly at first, but whatever helped the economy he supposed.

“Explain to me again,” he asked, taking another bite out of the lemon pie he ordered each time, “who exactly is the Composer, and how do I become one?”

“I don’t think it wise to shoot for the top,” Hanekoma warned. He was busy washing and drying glasses and cups. “But, the Composer is the one who makes the rules.”

“Ah, like the president of a company.”

“Weeeell, it’s a bit more complex than that.”

Joshua took another bite of pie, letting the crème dissolve on his tongue. “If I kill him, I can become a Composer, correct?”

“I don’t like where this is goin’, kid.”

“Joshua. You’ve called me kid forever. It’s Joshua,” he said, and set the fork down on the plate. “Worry not for me, dear barista. I’m not planning on jumping in unawares.”

Hanekoma dropped the towel and leaned on the bar close enough that Joshua could smell the man’s cologne wrapped in smoke. “Hey, y’shouldn’t jump in at all.”

“I’m bored with life, Sanae. I want something more.”

“Do I need to keep an eye on you?”

Joshua laughed. “Oh, no. I have plenty of eyes upon me already. However, I am about to lose the one most precious to me. I’m not sure what to do after.”

“It sucks,” Hanekoma turned away to continue cleaning, “to lose someone. Sorry, kid.”

“You know, I’ll just be happy when it’s over. Isn’t that terrible?”

Joshua could feel a sadness wash over him. His eyes teared up and though he fought against it, several tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m a horrible person, wishing my own mother dead.”

“Hey, kid,” Hanekoma said, attempting to sound soft. He walked around the counter and came to stand next to Joshua. “C’mon, it’ll be okay.”

He couldn’t help it. Joshua hadn’t been able to hold his mother in months. His arms flew around the barista and Joshua began to sob like a fool.

Hanekoma rubbed circles on Joshua’s back and spoke soothing words as he held tight. “Yer not terrible, Josh. You’re a good kid. Shh, just calm down.”

Joshua’s fingers dug into the sleeves of Hanekoma’s shirt. He cried harder and harder until the months and years of frustration and worry flooded out of him. His heart ached and his eyes burned when he couldn’t cry anymore. Hanekoma still held him close.

“Forgive me. I’m weak,” Joshua sniffled. “I shouldn’t have-“

A hand stroked his hair. “Hush. Yer only human.”

“I think,” he rubbed his nose with his sleeve, “being human is the problem.”

Hanekoma gave him another hug.

It wasn’t long after, Joshua left the café and walked the long way home. The evening had begun to color the sky above the buildings, and Joshua became lost in a crowd of emotions. He tried to ignore the aching in his gut and the racing of his thoughts.

Within months his mother would be gone. His father had already begun to withdraw and whatever friends Joshua may have had before, were lost to the passage of time. The apartment was empty and cold, and the ladies of the building had tried to console him, but it never worked.

Joshua turned the light on when he stepped into the apartment. He surveyed the neat environment, and inhaled the scent of clean cotton and wood. Removing his shoes, he set them next to the door and walked further in with just a pair of pink socks on his feet. He knelt before a small family alter and prayed to his ancestors for guidance.

None came. It never came.

That night-after a meal of lukewarm leftovers-Joshua sat on the edge of the balcony. He let his legs dangle as he watched the lights of shops and cars sparkle below. Falling to his death would be messy. He had read pills were a clean way to go, but from what he’d found online, there would be convulsions and vomit.

Joshua had thought about a thousand ways to die each and every night for the past week.

It wasn’t hard to procure a gun. Joshua knew who to talk to in the dark alleyways of the city. It was supposed to be for protection since he was always home alone, but the weight of the gun in his lap felt comforting. His fingers traced the edge of the barrel. It would still be messy, but at least he would be found much sooner than if he did it inside.

The gun was heavy in his hands. He placed the barrel to his forehead and closed his eyes.

“Forgive me, Mama,” he whispered to the music of the city.

A loud pop. The warmth of blood spraying on his face, and for exactly two seconds Joshua felt his body begin to fall to the street below.

When he next opened his eyes, he stood in the Scramble Crossing.

A bright and happy girl stood in front of him.

“Do you want to pact with me?”

Joshua looked down at his hands, half expecting the gun to still be there.

“I would love to…?”

“Atsume. Atsume Yoko. It’s nice to meet you.”

He grinned. “You have no idea how nice it is to meet you.”


End file.
